Caging the Beast
by Nan00k
Summary: Yamamoto is torn between amusement and mild horror when he realizes that he has made the overpowered, immovable Hibari feel things. 8018. Minor AU for the entire series.
1. Part 1

_**Caging the Beast  
**_**Part 1  
**By Nan00k

Basically, right after their first encounter with the infamous Disciplinary Chairman in his own reception room, Yamamoto notices Hibari's growing strange behavior, which is specifically aimed at him. Meanwhile, Hibari endures his very own teenage-middle-aged crisis.

In other words, I fell in love with a ten year old fandom and I really just wanted more 8018, even if I had to write it myself. :) This will be multi-chaptered, though each chapter will be its own little "episode," updated whenever I feel like it. Enjoy.

This first segment is split up into three parts: the first today deals with Hibari acting like a terrifying teenager who just discovered hormones and handling it in a manner that would only work for a predator like him. POVs switch between Hibari and Yamamoto throughout.

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**Disclaimer**: _Katekyo Hitman Reborn_ © Akira Amano. I only write this mess.  
**Warnings**: minor foul language, descriptions of violence, underage romance, slash, a clear abuse of the logic of the animal kingdom, alternative universe, and minor OOC behavior (though I've done what I can to avoid it)

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**Day 1**

Something strange, unprecedented and disturbing had happened.

Hibari Kyoya despised it.

He had no idea where it had started—no, he did. He could identify an exact moment in time and place when he first noticed it. Like a first symptom of a disease, it had been a precursor to a gradual increase of the disturbing change within himself.

It had all started when those three herbivores had foolishly invaded his territory. It had been almost amusing at first to see the weak creatures that inhabited his school dare to cross over into the reception room.

He had recognized each of them and knew their names, which was only fitting due to his role as Disciplinary Chairman. Gokudera Hayato; foreign exchange student who had already accumulated far too much damages to the school in his short time at Namimori Middle. Sawada Tsunayoshi; the very definition of an herbivore and an academic and social disgrace. Yamamoto Takeshi; star of the baseball team with low academic standards.

Hibari hadn't cared why they had chosen to deliberately invade his territory. The reason was irrelevant. He only cared to show them that such behavior would not be tolerated. He would bite them to death all too easily.

Gokudera Hayato lost his head in battle; it was his ultimate downfall. Hibari took mild pleasure in using his tonfas to beat the boy down, as if breaking that annoying, pathetic fire inside of the herbivore. Hibari could not stand the fake teeth so many of his would-be opponents had shown over the course of his life. It was pathetic. It was an insult. He took especially great pleasure in biting them to death.

When the silver haired boy fell, Hibari had turned around to face the remaining student standing (the one on the couch hadn't even woken). Yamamoto Takeshi had taken offence at his friend's beating. Hibari merely smirked and went at him with his tonfas out. Yamamoto Takeshi, who had always appeared happy to the point of stupidity, had tensed up and readied for the assault.

The moment their eyes met, Hibari almost stopped moving.

Instead of fake teeth, like Gokudera Hayato possessed, Yamamoto Takeshi had the mirrored opposite. An herbivore eyes. An herbivore's smile. An herbivore's body language.

But they were fake.

Hibari knew his own eyes had widened as he took it all in, in that split second of hesitation.

He had seen fake carnivores. He had seen men do their best to show they had fierceness, but in reality, they were pathetic weaklings who wanted the pretense of strength to assume power that wasn't theirs.

He had never seen a man—a carnivore, with sharp teeth and a desire for blood—fake wide-eyed weakness.

Yamamoto Takeshi was a carnivore dressed up in sheep's clothing.

The thrill that flooded Hibari at that moment, just as he brought up his tonfa to strike the other man down, made him shudder. He wanted it. He wanted to fight it, that beast, that carnivore hidden away under those stupid smiles and bright eyes. He lashed out with more power than he had intended; his focus had slipped.

Yamamoto Takeshi had dodged it, even if it had been faster than Hibari had meant it to be. That only made him strike out with more intensity; Yamamoto Takeshi still dodged. He wasn't attacking back. A snarl built up in Hibari's chest.

Why? Why the ruse? Why not give into the beast underneath that weak disguise? Hibari kicked out and grazed Yamamoto's right side. That wouldn't have made him stumble that easily, but Hibari noted that the baseball player was favoring his right arm, keeping it too far out of reach. There was no indication of injury there.

Too many questions plagued him. Hibari wanted it to end. He moved faster and hit harder, eventually pushing Yamamoto further and further back. Why wasn't he properly defending himself? !

Hibari went for the deciding blow, his frustration both confusing and overwhelming. Just as he brought the tonfa down on Yamamoto's head, the baseball player looked at him.

The ruse dropped, just in that moment. Hibari's heart skipped a beat as he stared into the depths of those eyes. There was no weak herbivore lens over them. They were the eyes of a true carnivore, pushed out into the open by the threat that was finally being acknowledged.

It came too late. Hibari slammed the tonfa down and Yamamoto dropped. Staring down at the other student, Hibari was struck by the loss of those eyes. He wanted to see them for longer than just a second. It had seemed like a total waste.

The confusion was overwhelming. He crouched over the body and stared into slackened face. It gave no clues as to what lay underneath. Hibari, for the first time since he could remember, felt true frustration.

He had no time to demand an explanation. The third unwelcomed herbivore finally got up from the couch and was astonished to see his friends lying on the ground. Hibari rose with his tonfas ready, his irritation now burning brighter now.

The Baby had been a decent distraction, but not enough. The sudden transformation of the third herbivore had been shocking, but no matter how strange, it was still an herbivore that suddenly could fight. Hibari felt a strange sense of pleasure from the fact that so many new potential rivals in a fight had literally landed in his lap. It had seemed to perfect. The smirk on the Baby's face seemed to hint that maybe it had been a trap.

Either way, Hibari let the Herbivore escape with all of his companions. His room was his again and he'd merely hunt them down later to give the strange (half-naked?) herbivore a true punishment.

The disturbing part came when, as Hibari attempted to enjoy his newly reclaimed quiet space, he could not enjoy it. His mind kept wandering back to the fights, which rarely happened, since he often found no real reason to remember squabbles with weak herbivores around the school.

But he kept thinking about it.

He kept thinking about one single, lurking problem, a problem that soon started to choke out every other focus. That problem's name just happened to be Yamamoto Takeshi.

**0000**

**Day 2**

Yamamoto Takeshi was beginning to drive Hibari Kyoya insane.

The following morning, Hibari had gone through his general routine. As Disciplinary Committee Chairman, he had obligations to make sure those who had incurred detentions or other demerits. There hadn't been many, so there wasn't any real reason to not seek out Sawada Tsunayoshi to give him the proper punishment he had failed to receive for his violation of the rules yesterday.

Hibari lacked the motivation to do that, however. He really just wanted to fight that Baby.

And…Yamamoto Takeshi.

He had thought about it longer than he should have; obviously, it was just one student and the potentiality of another fight. There would always be another fight. At the same time, this was decidedly different. There was a mystery concerning his opponent.

How could any sensible carnivore hide himself among sheep? That question just kept coming back to him, like an unwanted melody. Yamamoto was a well-liked student according to his peers, and despite frequent academic failures, he was rarely on the bad side of the Disciplinary Committee. Hibari had never sought the taller male out before, but every memory he had of seeing the boy at a distance included Yamamoto just laughing and smiling. His demeanor was horribly pleasant. There was no desire for fight in him.

But it existed. Just underneath that disguise, those smiles. Hibari had seen it and he had not mistaken it. The glimpse of a beast.

The confusion over why it was hidden at all plagued him; confusion over _having_ confusion made it even worse. Hibari's mood went decidedly south before second period had even begun. He had gone up to the roof to try to take a nap, but he couldn't sleep. He had had a horrible night's rest also, mostly because he kept trying to figure out the rationale behind Yamamoto's decision to live like prey.

Was it to train himself to have better control? Was it because he somehow feared his strength? A true carnivore would never have such pathetic methods of dealing with self-control nor would they ever fear their strength. That's what made them predators to begin with.

Hibari also could not fathom why he himself was having such a reaction to this. Yes, it was confusing, but it was ultimately unimportant. Hibari did not get wrapped up in the affairs of others. Yes, it was an intriguing mystery, but he didn't care.

He didn't.

Which was why he was in an increasingly strained state of mind when he, almost without thinking it through, told Kusakabe to fetch Yamamoto from class. Hibari did his best to ignore everything, including his growing doubt of his sanity. Maybe he had incurred a head injury and hadn't noticed. That herbivore Sawada could have gotten in a lucky hit…

Hibari flinched when he heard the door to the roof open. He was too distracted. This had to _stop_.

Turning around, he was not surprised to see Yamamoto sticking his head out around the edge of the door. He seemed happy to have found Hibari so quickly.

Yamamoto dared to smile. "Hibari? One of your friends on the Disciplinary Committee said that you wanted to speak to me?" he asked, stepping out onto the roof properly.

"Yamamoto Takeshi," he said. He watched the taller student approach and wasn't sure if he was irritated by Yamamoto's disrespect by boldly walking up to him or…something else.

"Sorry, again! I mean, for the other day. I know Tsuna apologized earlier, but we really didn't know we had invaded your spot, you know?" Yamamoto said, laughing. His laugh was almost omnipresent and it was unnecessary. "No hard feelings…right?"

Why? Why the smiles? He had to have suspected Hibari had called him up to be bitten to death. He still came. It was a show of strength, yes, but there was no outward wariness. Was Yamamoto just…that good at hiding things behind a mask? What was the _point_ of a mask?

Hibari only noticed then that a strange burning had appeared in his chest as he was swamped by those questions. The confusion was toxic.

There was still a way to answer his questions. There were still options left to make Yamamoto drop his ridiculous disguise.

"Hibari?" Yamamoto asked, smiling like a fool.

They were still the eyes of an herbivore. There wasn't a single sign of what Hibari had seen yesterday afternoon. It was frustrating. It shouldn't have been that powerful, but at that moment, Hibari was affected by the frustration of not being able to see those carnivore eyes again.

"Yamamoto Takeshi," Hibari said, deciding on it right then and there. "Fight me."

He needed to see it again.

He had no idea why, but he did.

The smile slowly faded from the idiot's face. "Huh?" Yamamoto asked, surprised. "Fight you?"

Hibari grabbed his tonfas under his jacket, but didn't raise them yet. "You fought in the reception room. Do it again," he ordered.

"What?" Yamamoto asked, now a bit more alarmed, but only under the guise of a confused herbivore. He laughed and tried to raise his hands. "Hibari, uh, I think I'll pass—_whoa_!"

Hibari lost his patience. In hindsight, it was a pathetic gesture and it served only to prove that Hibari needed to rigorously examine why his self discipline had failed recently. He hadn't needed to train himself in that regard since he was a child; it was unacceptable.

But on the roof, at that moment, he lost it. Even then, there was a faint sense in the back of his mind that it was a complete lapse of character. He could not help but lash out.

He did not give Yamamoto another chance. Grabbing his tonfas, he lunged at the baseball player. Yamamoto yelped and did his best to get out of the way.

All that Hibari could think then, as they danced around the roof, was that he just needed to drag the carnivore out again. If a fight was what it took to make Yamamoto stop looking at him with those herbivore eyes and remove the disguise that hid his fangs, so be it. Hibari had been looking forward to another match, if only to see those eyes.

Yamamoto was quick. Quicker than Gokudera Hayato had been. He still wasn't quicker than Hibari and was forced to keep increasing the distance between them. Hibari did not allow him the chance to get too far away. Yamamoto continued to dodge the direct hits, but was quickly accumulating what would turn out to be an outstanding collection of bruises on his sides, arms and legs.

He wasn't fighting back. He wasn't even dodging sufficiently anymore. He was merely trying to keep his right side untouched. Why was it so important? Why was he acting like every other prey that had ended up in Hibari's line of sight? It was _wrong_.

"Hibari, wait," Yamamoto said, trying to keep his hands up in a pathetic attempt of defense. He was getting winded. "Wait a second, I don't want to fight you."

"Shut up," Hibari snapped, lunging again.

It was still there, that fanged monster underneath. Hibari saw just flashes of it, whenever he got too close or whenever he landed an indirect hit. The pain drew it out. The threat was clearly being registered by Yamamoto's inner beast. The clearest sign that there was something more to the baseball player was the fact that he hadn't tried to run. Only herbivores ran.

Hibari could not identify nor control the boiling emotion in his chest. It was disgusting, how affected he was by this.

But he just had to drag it out, then. He could do that. His curiosity would be appeased and he'd get what he had wanted from the start.

_Why_ he wanted it was another question, one that Hibari decided to ignore. He was far too intent on cornering Yamamoto, which he was slowly succeeding at doing. Yamamoto backed into the fence on the roof edge and flung himself away when Hibari slammed his tonfa into it. The whole metal structure shook violently.

The thrill of the hunt was fading. Hibari was sick of waiting. His impatience made his attacks fiercer; he didn't lose control of the strikes. If anything, they became more precise and backed by far more power than he should have put into it. Yamamoto, on the other hand, had started to slow from fatigue.

He was also slowed by his pathetic attempts to shield his right side. Hibari snarled and grabbed Yamamoto's left ankle with his own and yanked him over. Yamamoto stumbled to the side and Hibari brought a tonfa down onto his right shoulder.

Yamamoto yelled out, the first time he had raised his voice during the fight, and he ducked out of the way over another direct hit. Hibari felt a strange sense of disappointment at the panic in Yamamoto's expression. Where was the anger? Where was the carnivore? Yamamoto scrambled backwards and actually tripped onto his back. He had lost control of the fight entirely now, not that he had had any control to start with.

Hibari had also lost control. He jumped at the other teen and meant to slam the tonfa's edge directly into Yamamoto's face, but the baseball player suddenly rolled to the side. He didn't get far, especially when Hibari merely shot his other hand out and slammed it into his jaw, sending him flying the other way.

"H'bari—," Yamamoto tried to say, slurring after that last strike.

For whatever reason, that made that raw, boiling emotion in Hibari burn even more.

He raised his tonfa and slammed it down on Yamamoto's shoulder as he attempted to move out of the way. Mercilessly, Hibari finished it by slamming the other against the taller male's unprotected head. Yamamoto went down and didn't get up.

Hibari stood there, breathing heavily, and he was lost in a sense of—loss of control? That made no sense. He did not lose control, ever.

And yet, he couldn't calm himself.

What was happening to him? This was wrong. Hibari slowly dropped his tonfas to his side. This was completely, utterly _wrong_.

Yamamoto lay on the ground, sprawled and defenseless. Hibari should have left then. He had hit harder than he meant to, but Yamamoto was still breathing. He didn't strike unconscious prey.

Hibari's hands quivered.

Why?

It wasn't the first time in those two days that Hibari saw that his life was slowly spiraling out of control.

It was merely the first he acknowledged it.

**0000**

The first thing he saw was a white ceiling. Yamamoto blinked twice, slowly, and tried to figure out why his face hurt so much. He didn't remember going off to practice yet and it wasn't like the dugout or locker room had a ceiling like that. He felt like he was lying on a couch, too. The room was oddly quiet. His shoulder was hurting, but then again, most of his body was throbbing—

"Conscious yet?"

The unexpected question made Yamamoto jump. He sat up and turned to face the person. When he recognized their face, he actually yelped. Abruptly, he remembered why he was flat on his back anywhere.

Hibari was standing just a meter away by the other couch. He was glaring at Yamamoto with his usual cold eyes.

"Yikes!" Yamamoto sat upright, ignoring how his back protested in pain at the sudden movement, and stared at the older student warily. "Hibari?"

He didn't want to feel nervous about the older boy, but after what he could recall happened, Yamamoto figured he ought to be a bit wary about what to expect just yet. Their fight on the roof, or rather Hibari's lonesome attack, had been brutal. Hibari didn't move from his spot; he only continued to glare at Yamamoto expectantly.

Yamamoto swallowed hard and decided to take the tense silence that fell between them as a good sign. It was clearly later in the day, judging by the sunlight coming in the reception room windows. His whole body hurt, but it looked like whatever battlelust had overtaken Hibari on the roof had faded. Hopefully.

It was getting a little awkward. Hibari seemed content to just glare forever. Yamamoto strained a smile, ignoring the pain in his right cheek. He glanced down at his left arm and saw his wrist was wrapped up. He remembered getting a rather awful whack to it earlier. It didn't feel sprained at the very least.

"…did you patch me up?" he asked. He cleared his throat and tried to be casual about it. "Um, thanks."

Normally, he'd expect a curt acknowledgement from the Prefect and that was all. It wasn't unheard of for Hibari to show some sort of mercy toward injured students by dragging them to the nurse's office, particularly ones who were really beat up—or bitten—by him. Yamamoto knew it was rare, however, and Hibari never bothered to personally wait with the injured student.

This time, however, Hibari did not leave. If he were crazy, Yamamoto would have thought it was an act of guilt that made Hibari bother to bring Yamamoto to his reception room. That was a silly thought to have about the Disciplinary Committee Chairman, however.

Hibari loomed. "Why didn't you fight back?"

"…I did," Yamamoto said, beginning to feel a little dizzy from all of the confusion he was experiencing.

"No," Hibari snapped. "You hid whatever spark you have in you, Yamamoto Takeshi, that separates you from the rest of these sheep."

…huh?

Yamamoto tried desperately to catch up. "I mean, I didn't give it my all, but Hibari, I don't want to fight you."

"Why _not_?" Hibari demanded harshly, leaning in closer.

"Because there's no reason to," he said.

Immediately, he knew he had said the wrong thing. Hibari's expression folded back into something akin to surprise. His dark-rimmed eyes widened faintly and Yamamoto could clearly see how pretty his steel-blue eyes were. The Prefect's mouth opened, but he didn't say anything.

He just stared at Yamamoto, as if Yamamoto were the strangest creature he had ever seen.

Yamamoto waited it out and felt a strange apprehension rise up in the back of his mind. Maybe… he should have prepared for another attack.

Thankfully, it didn't come. Hibari's confused surprise melted into an angry expression, but he just stood there, staring at Yamamoto. He didn't move for a long time.

Then, without a word, he straightened. The Prefect went over to the desk and grabbed an unused roll of white bandages. He stalked past Yamamoto and threw the bandages at the baseball player's face. Yamamoto managed to raise his hands in time to catch the item. Before he could thank him or ask him where he was going, Hibari had stormed out the reception room door and slammed it shut behind him.

Yamamoto, despite recent evidence to the contrary, was not suicidal. So, he naturally did not assume Hibari was being overly emotional. Because Hibari had clearly made a reputation for _not_ being emotional over _anything_.

Sitting there on the couch, Yamamoto stared at the (forcefully) offered bandages and contemplated what they meant.

They were probably the closest to an apology as Yamamoto was going to get.

Against his better judgment, he smiled anyway.

**0000**

By the time he had finished his rounds and went back to his office, Yamamoto had left. That was a good thing, considering Hibari's confusion over everything that had happened that day was beginning to send him into a dark, dark mood. He sat down on the black leather couch and glared at the wall. It was beginning to become problematic, how fixated his mind was on this issue. Everything just kept swirling around in his mind, refusing to fade in importance.

No reason to fight? There was an obvious reason: Hibari had launched an assault against him. Someone was attacking him and yet the would-be carnivore couldn't find a reason to defend himself? It made no sense. Yamamoto Takeshi was lying.

And yet, he hadn't been. Hibari knew liars. He knew how to spot the signs.

Yamamoto hadn't been lying in the reception room. He had been honest. He honestly believed that there had been no reason to fight back.

It made no sense.

Hibari did not lose control. He had not intended to go as far as he had, but striking at Yamamoto until he lost consciousness had been unexpectedly satisfying. It had left him with too many questions, of course, but as he recalled his exact moves on the roof, Hibari noted firmly that there had been no room for Yamamoto to mistake the danger. Hibari was dangerous; the shadow of a look in Yamamoto's eyes clearly showed that he had understood how dangerous the Prefect was.

And yet he still hadn't fought back.

What sort of carnivore didn't defend itself in a truly dangerous situation? Yamamoto—if he truly was more than the rest of his weak peers—should have reacted instinctively to the threat against his life. Even if he had superior self-control up until the moment Hibari landed the fatal strike, what sort of fighter allowed themselves be that weak in a decisive moment?

…Unless that was how his strange, unnatural carnivore logic worked. That somehow, when it wasn't an intentional altercation, when Yamamoto had personal reasons to fight back…

He didn't.

Hibari stared at the wall above the couch and tried to fathom it.

What had been different? What differences existed between the fight on the roof and the fight in the reception room?

People.

Hibari's eyes trailed over to where he had felled Gokudera Hayato and then where he had fought Sawada Tsunayoshi. The only true difference between the roof and the room altercations had been the inclusion of other participants in the fight. Was that it?

He almost didn't hear the door open. When he turned to glare at the offending visitor, he relaxed when he saw his second-in-command, Kusakabe Tetsuya, standing at attention. He had brought with him daily disciplinary notes from all the school's instructors. Students who had accumulated demerits would be located and reprimanded the following morning promptly.

Kusakabe had gone over to leave the small stack of paper on Hibari's desk, but seemed to notice something with Hibari. The Prefect bristled under the inquisitive look, but reluctantly acknowledged that if anyone had the right to inquire into Hibari's mood, it was undoubtedly his second-in-command.

"Sir?" Kusakabe asked, a little surprised.

Hibari could count on a somewhat sound-judgment on things from Kusakabe, especially concerning the behavior of other people that he didn't understand. It was still a spontaneous gesture when he responded.

"Why would someone fight in the company of others and fail to fight well at all while alone?" he asked.

"Sir?" Kusakabe asked again, now confused. He quickly decrypted the question, however. "Um, well…some people fight better in groups."

"Not better. More viciously," Hibari said, irritable. "Herbivores fight in groups. Carnivores don't."

Kusakabe had known Hibari long enough to understand what he meant most times.

"…I see," the taller Prefect said, looking thoughtful as he tried to analyze what his leader was troubled by. "Well, if a carnivore is fighting harder in a team but not as aggressively outside of a team…perhaps they merely have different strategies?"

Hibari sneered at that idea. "Hm."

What sort of strategy was that? Just waiting until someone else was standing by? It hadn't mattered in the end, since Yamamoto had lost regardless, but there were other factors to consider. He still shied away from damaging his right arm. Reports Hibari had gathered explained that the baseball player had injured that arm earlier in the year; his fear of injuring it in battle was a weakness that had to be weeded out. Regardless, Yamamoto clearly had shown that a beast lurked beneath his stupid herbivore smiles.

How was it that his fangs only came out when there were other people? That seemed so illogical. Carnivores didn't crowd with others, especially not herbivore crowds.

Did Yamamoto purposely choose that? Hibari glared at the wall, trying to wrap his mind around the likelihood of that strategy. If he wanted to hide…if he wanted to be an herbivore…that explained why he lived like one.

But it didn't explain why he hid behind that mask, even in battle. Or why he failed to step out of that cloak when alone with another carnivore.

"Or, perhaps, their motivation is different," Kusakabe said suddenly, causing Hibari to look up at him.

"Motivation?" Hibari repeated, eyes narrowed.

Kusakabe nodded, hesitant. "Some people, when relying on a team, are more likely to feel a need to protect their teammates."

"Protect," Hibari echoed. His lip raised his disgust.

"If, in the case you're referring to, sir, the person is a naturally strong fighter, it may be that he does not hold himself back as much in cases where he feels he needs to be stronger for others," Kusakabe continued. He sounded a little unsure of himself, but Hibari could trust that his underling did think out what he said with care, generally. "It's not the optimum situation, but I feel as though it is common."

That did nothing to make order of Hibari's chaos-filled thoughts. It only made him more frustrated. How? It was illogical and unnatural to think that a carnivore would lower himself to that level. Yamamoto _was_ a carnivore—Hibari had so rarely felt that thrill of challenge when he had looked into his eyes that it was an unmistakable feeling.

The mystery of why Yamamoto hid behind an herbivore's mask and then chose to actively ally himself with anyone was dwarfed by the stranger mystery of why that would impact his ability to fight while alone.

…unless he didn't like to fight.

Hibari grit his teeth at the pure insanity of such a theory. How could a carnivore didn't like to fight—? !

"This is about Yamamoto Takeshi, isn't it, sir?" Kusakabe asked, again hesitant.

Hibari crossed his arms against his chest, scowling. "I do not understand how a carnivore can behave that way."

"He is a natural team-player, sir," Kusakabe said. "Perhaps it was his baseball training that caused this team-focus in his fighting."

"_Tch_."

Carnivores were not natural team-players. Carnivores consumed the weak, fought as they pleased and never lost fights only because there weren't witnesses around for it.

Yamamoto was a carnivore who broke those rules, however. There was a raw danger that was present in him, but it only came out when he had, what? Things to fight for? Hibari sneered at the very thought of it.

But it wasn't that easy. He couldn't let it go. His mind kept going back to that single, bizarre thought: that Yamamoto somehow was more of a carnivore while working with others, like in some bizarre pack, only his fellow packmates were nothing but herbivores. It defied the natural law that ruled Hibari's reality.

It made no sense. It was starting to drive him crazy. It was intoxicating to the point Hibari could think of nothing else all day.

It had to stop. As with all problems in his life, Hibari sought a way to remove that confusion and move on from this disappointment.

The only problem was…he couldn't think of how.

"If I may, sir," Kusakabe began. Hibari merely looked over at him. "Perhaps the best course of action is to confront him about it directly."

"I did."

"Without a fight."

Without a fight?

Hibari stared at the wall again and wondered just how more insane he would allow this troublesome thing to become.

He wanted answers. He had a feeling that he'd only get them in a confrontation directly with the source of his frustrations. If that failed, well…

Hibari would just bite him to death.

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**End Part 1.**

**In part 2, Yamamoto jumps to conclusions and then Reborn gives Hibari the best worst idea ever, of all time.**

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**A/Ns**:  
-Hibari Kyoya, Namimori's resident man-child terrorist.  
-In all seriousness, while it obviously never comes up in canon, I was amused by the idea of Hibari going through puberty. He's clearly not using the same everyday logic the average teen would use when dealing with emotions and sexual urges, so I figured it could be manipulated into this sort of behavior the moment he encountered someone worthy of his strange criteria. I'm pretty sure the only one who also could do this to him would be Dino, but I've always seen their student-teacher relationship as the cockblock there. I sincerely doubt he ever got the "talk" from any older peers or family, nor would he have ever thought to reference it for himself, since he's so in control of his body. This is my only excuse for such OOC dedication to solving his problems haha.  
-This first segment was only split up because the other parts combined with part 1 is already over 27 pages in MS Word and it's not even 50% done yet. Urgh.


	2. Part 2

_**Caging the Beast  
**_**Part 2  
**By Nan00k

Thank you for your kind words and favorites!

Today, Yamamoto's poor choice of words gives Reborn an edge into their little drama to ruin Hibari's otherwise sane, violent way of life. Or, maybe not… POVs switch between Hibari and Yamamoto throughout.

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**Disclaimer**: _Katekyo Hitman Reborn_ © Akira Amano. I only write this mess.  
**Warnings**: minor foul language, descriptions of violence, underage romance, slash, a clear abuse of the logic of the animal kingdom, alternative universe, and minor OOC (though I've done what I can to avoid it)

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**Day 11**

Yamamoto was beginning to feel a little panicked.

It wasn't a _his-life-is-in-danger_ sort of panic. It was more of an _I'm-not-sure-if-I-should-be-worried_ panic that was inching its way up in the back of his mind like a hesitant cloud.

Hibari was following him. Not everywhere, not constantly, but it was consistent enough that Yamamoto noticed after a few days that it wasn't a coincidence. He was far more aware of his surroundings than Gokudera liked to joke about; Yamamoto had seen Hibari's lurking form right away, but he had dismissed it as the Prefect being on his patrols.

Coincidence faded as a reasonable excuse for the lurking after a few days, however. Their fight, only a week old, had resulted in a tense stand-still between the two. Yamamoto's shoulder was doing much better, not that it had been that bad to start with, but he had been worried Hibari was following him for a rematch.

It became clear, however, that the following was more of an observance than a calm before the storm. Hibari didn't speak to him. Whenever they got close enough at school to speak, Yamamoto's greetings were blatantly ignored. If anything, Hibari was avoiding him at the same time as following him before practice or after school to go home. Yamamoto could feel those judging eyes searching for something; it was more confusing to not know what they were looking for than to wonder why they were looking at him at all.

Even Tsuna began to notice his uninvited follower. He spent most of their walk to school glancing worriedly over his shoulder whenever Hibari showed up to tail them, or rather, tail Yamamoto.

"Is…is everything okay?" Tsuna asked, keeping his voice at a comical whisper as he glanced frantically between Hibari and Yamamoto.

Yamamoto merely laughed. "Sure!"

He wasn't sure it was okay. In fact, he was certain there was an issue hanging between him and the Prefect, but he didn't have a clue what it could be. Hibari wasn't attacking him or even talking to him. He didn't even follow him all the time. At school, Yamamoto didn't see him often, but then again, there were plenty of places for the Prefer to lurk and remain unseen. Yamamoto tried not to think about it.

At first, he assumed it was a fight brewing. He did not relish another round with Hibari, because frankly, even if Yamamoto was giving it his all, Hibari could still beat him easily. His shoulder was still bothering him from last week's altercation. It wasn't as if he was scared of Hibari; he was just appropriately wary whenever he thought the Prefect would finally approach him. Any skilled individual would be wary around those they knew were better or at least rivaled them.

He didn't like fighting. But Yamamoto had to force himself not to feel like he would reciprocate Hibari's ferocity that next time. Because as much as he didn't like hurting people, Yamamoto thoroughly hated losing even more.

He didn't dwell on that thought, mainly because he could just imagine how disappointed his father would be over such feelings.

It was hard to concentrate on ignoring the problem when Hibari continued to literally hover. Yamamoto wasn't good at solving personal problems by ignoring them. They festered and often grew into deeper issues, like resentment or misunderstandings. He didn't want that, especially when he knew the Kiddo was trying to get Hibari to join their little group. Hibari wasn't a bad person. Yamamoto admired him.

That didn't make it easier to deliberating plan to confront the Prefect on his way home from school that day. Yamamoto had made sure to leave after Tsuna and Gokudera went home. Sure enough, he wasn't alone as he walked back; Hibari was tailing him again.

Thinking quickly, he walked around a tight corner and only walked a few meters ahead before stopped and turning around to face the way he came. He felt an odd fight-or-flight urge as he waited there for those last few seconds, but if he was anything, Yamamoto was not a coward.

That didn't stop a wave of apprehension when Hibari inevitably turned the corner—also misled by a week of expecting Yamamoto to ignore his tailing him—and stopped dead when he saw Yamamoto waiting for him.

There was a long, tense pause. Hibari, despite having no real reason to be nervous, seemed on edge under Yamamoto's attention. Hibari did not seem the type to be embarrassed by being caught doing something as odd as stalking someone. It wasn't embarrassment. It was pure tension.

Yamamoto forced a smile.

"Hibari, do you want to say something to me?" he asked, deciding to go for home.

Despite being the one who was following Yamamoto and the one who clearly had a problem to be addressed, Hibari looked as if Yamamoto were the one to be causing him grief.

"What?" Hibari demanded. Hostile, defensive and to the point. At least that much was the same. The defensiveness was strange, however, coming from the Prefect.

Yamamoto still tried to be as peaceable as possible. He smiled. "You've been following me all week. I'm not really up for another fight right now, but maybe later? Unless you wanted to say something else, then I'm all ears."

"No," Hibari said, sneering. He moved backwards, suddenly dismissive. "Don't loiter, or I'll bite you to death."

Yamamoto stepped forward, hand starting out toward the older boy almost without him thinking it through.

"Hibari, wait!" he said. He hesitated but did not stop speaking under Hibari's resulting glare. "Seriously, is there something I did that insulted you? I'm sorry if I did."

For a long moment, Yamamoto thought he had messed up again and Hibari would leave anyway. The Prefect looked irritated beyond belief, with his eyes narrowed and his entire posture stiff and uninviting. Hibari wanted to leave, clearly. Yamamoto felt disappointed at the thought.

However, after a few seconds, Hibari did not leave. He was staring at Yamamoto with those continually fierce eyes, but in them, Yamamoto saw a wavering uncertainty. Whatever the problem was—whatever issue Hibari was having concerning Yamamoto—it was very clearly a complicated one for the older student, who had always seemed to perfectly in control of his entire existence. Perhaps, Yamamoto thought, that was the reason this problem was so much of a problem to begin with for Hibari.

Finally, the answer came out in the form of a question.

"Why are you wearing the mask of an herbivore?"

Yamamoto hesitated and watched the other student glaring at him. Hibari had spoken just as bluntly as he normally did, but the frustrated twitch to his eye seemed to worsen when he asked.

"Huh?" he asked, knowing it barely scratched the surface of what he wanted to ask. He had heard Hibari use those words before, but…

"You think you can hide it, but I saw it," Hibari continued, suddenly far more verbose than before. He pointed accusingly at Yamamoto, a look of disgust crossing his face. "You hide behind a mask that paints you as weak. I don't know if that's more pathetic than actually being weak, but it sickens me."

Besides being shocked by that statement—because Yamamoto was pretty sure that was the most Hibari had ever spoken to him or in front of him—the gears were slowly turning for his comprehension.

"I saw it when you did you best to jump out of a fight with me, in the reception room," Hibari said, voice dropping lower as he stepped closer and bore his teeth. "Why would you hide what makes you better than the rest of those sheep?"

Saw what? That was what Yamamoto wanted to ask. But he didn't. For the first time while encountering Hibari when he was that antagonized already, Yamamoto decided to stop and think. Think very hard. Something was sincerely bothering Hibari, enough to make him upset, and it had something to do with Yamamoto. This wasn't something the baseball player could idly stand by and not properly address.

It didn't take him as long as he thought to figure it out. Sort of. Yamamoto frowned as he took in Hibari's frustrated expression, which was growing worse with the passing seconds. While Yamamoto didn't think he was doing what Hibari was accusing him of…the picture became a little clearer once Yamamoto thought harder.

"I…think I understand what you're asking. I think," he said, speaking slowly. "And…I don't know how to answer you."

Hibari's lips raised faintly and Yamamoto held his hands up.

"But! I can try," he said, trying to choose his words carefully. He was, if anything, learning to respect Hibari's impatience. "I…I think you're trying to ask me why I don't enjoy fighting like you do. Because, if you think that I don't…you're wrong."

A flash of anger. "You _dodged_—" Hibari started to say.

"I like challenge. I thrive in it. So do you. But you like challenges that involve hurting other people," Yamamoto said, without pausing. "While I'm not afraid to do that to defend myself or others, I prefer the challenge of sport. You know?"

"You can't blame baseball for that look."

"What look?"

Without one word more, Hibari closed to distance between them. Yamamoto didn't flinch back; he was too busy admiring his senpai's strange gray eyes.

"I see that beast behind your eyes, whenever something pushes you to the limit. I wanted to see it come out, but you keep it locked down to the point where you're worse than an herbivore. At least they attempt to defend themselves," Hibari said, voice practically a hissing whisper. He sounded so angry. "You? You'd roll over and die."

It was probably a bad time to notice how attractive his eyes were. Yamamoto tried to focus on his main objective not to get bitten to death.

"That's not true," he said.

Hibari stopped and just stared at him. His eyes were wider, yet still full of that strange shadowed anger. Yamamoto felt irrationally responsible to find a way to make it go away. Hibari was aloof and disinterested with people. It seemed oddly wrong for him to be so worked up over one person. Yamamoto did not feel worthy enough to be the one who had stirred things up like that.

"If you want a real fight, fine," Yamamoto said, shaking his head. "But I'm not the same as you, Hibari."

He thought about bracing himself for Hibari's inevitable assault. He didn't really mean to leave his speech with an opened ended invitation for a fight, but in hindsight, he realized he had.

But Hibari thankfully didn't take the offer. He just glared at Yamamoto. He was still horribly pale and Yamamoto could see both of his fists shaking. He must have been digging his nails into his skin. That idea and the sight of the older student bothered Yamamoto a lot more than he expected.

"And I didn't mean to make it sound like I'm better, because I'm not," Yamamoto added quickly. He smiled. "I've never seen someone fight like you, Hibari. I don't blame you for trying to seek out fights. It must be really boring for you."

For some reason, that almost made things better. It didn't get rid of the tension, but it did alleviate that burgeoning threat of a real fight.

Hibari's eyes narrowed slowly. "Boring?"

"Why do you think I chose baseball?" Yamamoto asked, now grinning. "Or why Tsuna is so much fun to be around?"

"The Herbivore is nothing but an herbivore," Hibari said, scowling.

"I think you mean 'weakling' when you call people that," Yamamoto said, musing to himself mostly. He scratched his head and assumed he was right by Hibari's lack of correction. "And you're wrong. He's not a weakling. Otherwise, why'd you think he'd be so much fun? Me and him are a lot alike—"

"He is _nothing_ like you," Hibari spat, so quickly and so jarringly, Yamamoto's mouth dropped.

_Why_ was Hibari so focused on Yamamoto? There was a strange sense of admiration going on in Hibari's accusations against him. Almost like he was disappointed in Yamamoto's choices, which was bizarre, since why did it matter to him? They had rarely interacted before in school and never outside of it. They had few things in common. And now, comparing himself to Tsuna made Hibari mad? Why would…?

Then… it sort of clicked.

"Hibari," Yamamoto began, feeling a little surprised and not a little humbled. "Do you like me?"

He didn't ask out of some sense of inflated ego. He had had a few people confess to him at school (both male and female). He had never seen someone act like Hibari, of course, but he had seen two girls be driven to following him around like the Prefect had been doing. The fact that Hibari had obviously been thinking about him specifically also rang a few warning bells.

Most of Hibari's expression dropped as his eyes widened faintly. It was almost comical.

"Do I what?" he asked, voice devoid of emotion.

"You know, a crush?" Yamamoto offered. He smiled brightly. "Because that's okay. I mean, I'm not weirded out by it. And you shouldn't either! If that's what's gotten you so—"

He had meant to say that if that's what had been driving Hibari to following him and being so focused on Yamamoto's behavior, that was just fine. Maybe Hibari had been shy or maybe never had experience with this before.

…or maybe Hibari just handled curiosity differently, judging by how quickly Hibari's expression morphed into disgust and then how easily he flung his tonfa at Yamamoto's head. It cracked the concrete wall behind them as if it had been made of drywall. Yamamoto barely ducked in time and quickly took several steps back to avoid more attacks.

They never came. His expression still livid, Hibari turned around and stalked off the way he had come. Yamamoto watched his departing form, feeling a little unnerved.

"Ehh," he said to himself, laughing awkwardly. "Maybe I was wrong."

He took the tonfa and placed it the lower wall for Hibari to collect later.

**0000**

It was unfathomable. It was disgusting.

Hibari had barely restrained himself from biting the baseball player to death once again. As he walked away, he found himself nearly choking on the revulsion that filled him as he dwelled on what Yamamoto had implied.

He could have cared less about who fucked who; he just cared whether they did it in the appropriate time and place. He had in both the Namimori Middle and High schools caught plenty of disrespectful herbivores defiling the buildings by being wrapped up in each others arms in the filthy hormonal acts that seemed to afflict anyone between the ages of fourteen and twenty-one.

But him? Carnal lust was a weak act. It showed a lack of self-control and focus. It was fitting for herbivores who had little comprehension of how useless it was and only allowed themselves to be driven by pure emotion over emotional control. Carnivores like himself did not give in to weak acts that promised no true benefit. He was too young to worry about procreation and the continuation of his family name. To engage in it with only the intent of pleasure was weak.

Yamamoto had effectively called him weak. Called him an herbivore. And had smiled about it. As if it had not been an insult to Hibari's character.

What was it about the taller boy that made it so difficult to bite him to death and be done with it? It would have been simpler to just expel that wasteful, pathetic excuse of a carnivore from his sights. But as much as it had been satisfactory to beat the unresisting teen on the roof, it had also been oddly disappointing. He couldn't shake that gnawing, empty feeling when he had bitten the boy.

He also failed to shake that wave of heat that came up in his chest as an unwelcome inferno every time he got close enough to feel Yamamoto's breath, when he could see those carnivorous eyes flash just briefly under the mask of a _prey animal_.

It was wrong. It was a disgrace. Hibari found himself boiling in that anger as he walked across Namimori. The next creature that he encountered would face the brunt of that anger, involved or not—

"Ciaosu."

Hibari froze and then immediately whirled around at the sudden voice. Only very few people could dream of sneaking up on him, even if he had been distracted. As expected, on the ledge of the wall that lined the street he was walking down, a familiar fedora-wearing baby was looming overhead. Hibari relaxed faintly and nodded in acknowledgement.

"Baby," he said. His eyes narrowed and he immediately brought up his remaining tonfa. "Fight me."

He needed to get this out of his system. Since biting Yamamoto to death was off the table—just being near him now was playing havoc with his body and mind—the Baby was a welcomed alternative.

Unfortunately, the Baby did not move to reciprocate the invitation for a fight. "Maybe later," the infant said, apologetic. However, when he smiled, the apology seemed faker. "Sorry for intruding, but I was passing by when I overheard you speaking with Yamamoto."

Hibari's eyes narrowed further. "Leave or fight me. I am in no mood for chatter."

"I'll make it quick, because I think it'll be to your benefit that you listen briefly."

"Listen to _what_?" Hibari demanded.

"You don't like the idea of liking him," Reborn said. He tilted his head down at the teenager. "Why?"

"It's weak," Hibari said, irritated.

"But is the wolf weak?"

That caught Hibari by surprise, even if he didn't show it. "What?"

"You're what we call a _lone wolf_, Hibari. You don't work well with the rest of the pack," Reborn said, still wearing that smug look. "But even wolves take on mates, don't they?"

Hibari sneered at the intended comparison. "For procreation. Even if I did care for such a thing, it cannot happen between males."

"True!" Reborn hopped down from the wall and stood a few meters back, staring up at Hibari. "But it's not like that sort of thing—the mating between two of the same sex—doesn't happen in the wild. It happens all the time, among predators and among prey."

"I don't care," Hibari said, irritable. He went to turn away; if he wasn't going to get a fight from the infant, he couldn't care less about what he had to say.

"And sex is about power, too, isn't it?" Reborn continued. "Not that I'm encouraging risky behavior among youngsters! But I wouldn't want you to mistake taking a partner as accepting weakness. It's quite the opposite."

That gave him momentary pause. "How?" Hibari demanded.

Reborn shrugged. "It's natural, as the animal kingdom has shown. After all, the fiercest of predators all take on mates at some point. Some even the same one until death," he said. "And like I said before: sticking around Tsuna and his friends, especially Yamamoto, is going to open more doors for you to achieve greater strength."

Hibari sneered. He had heard this before and it was still ridiculous. Sure, Sawada Tsunayoshi possessed some strange strength, but until that came out on a regular basis, it wasn't worth pursuing. If he dared to bring trouble into Namimori, Hibari would bite both offending sides to death for disturbing the peace.

Being closer to them—to Yamamoto—wouldn't benefit him. It was illogical.

"You might not believe me about Tsuna yet, but you've seen it in Yamamoto," Reborn said, keeping his voice casual, as if he were ignoring the building agitation coming from Hibari, when he clearly had to have felt it. "He's a wolf, too, though he can play with the pack. Can you imagine what could happen if he was yours, though?"

_Mine?_ Hibari opened his mouth, eyes narrowed in a dangerous glare, and wanted to tell the infant that he was wasting his breath and Hibari's patience. He didn't care if Yamamoto was a wolf like him. He was still pathetic, hiding beneath his disguise, as if it was worth his while to hide amongst sheep. It made no sense and it was infuriating to watch, even if Hibari was struggling to realize _why_ it was so infuriating.

Why did it bother him so much? Hibari despised not knowing, especially when it was affecting him this badly. It shouldn't have. There was something wrong with him and it was all Yamamoto's fault. Somehow.

"Or that's just a strange analogy to animals, I guess. Maybe nothing to take to heart," Reborn said, walking past him nonchalantly. "You can just keep watching from a distance and wait for that power he has to come out. I applaud your sense of patience. Especially considering that you're probably never going to find someone quite like him for, well, who knows?

Hibari glared as the Baby walked off. There was something about him—and his words. Normally, it was just a matter of the bloodthirsty glimmer underneath the child façade that made Hibari pause and then want to drag it out for a decent fight for once. Now, whatever the Baby was implying was a distraction from a potential battle worth his caliber.

Despite not understanding why Reborn was implying what he was, Hibari paid attention to it. He didn't know why the Baby would get involved in this. He didn't understand why he would say that being involved with another—be them carnivore or herbivore—was a benefit. That somehow, being involved with Yamamoto would benefit Hibari, who had never had a need for anyone. His strength was his own and…

This _was_ his, wasn't it? Hibari stared at the cement wall in front of him. He had always trusted his senses and his own abilities. He did not compare himself to the herbivores that walked the halls of Namimori. Their needs—the needs of the average person—should not have applied to him as well.

But he could not deny that he was reacting like they would. To acknowledge that such physical desires—which he should have been able to contain and suppress, since he did have absolute control over his body and mind—would be to lower himself to their level. It was not permissible and it was not even logical. It was impossible for him to have such weakness and yet the symptoms existed.

He wanted to dominate Yamamoto at the same time as making him an equal worth pursuing. He felt a physical urge to be close to him, to feel his presence, to even touch him without the intent of biting him to death. The hot rush of emotions that followed seeing him in the throes of battle was not born from anger or dislike; they were alien, but they were still decidedly not unpleasant. Hibari acknowledged their positively and that's what had made them unwanted before.

If it wasn't an inherent weakness, and if it was a natural course of things just the same as how all men bleed red, Hibari recognized that it was not a feature that showed weakness. Instead, just like bleeding, it was something he should handle as a carnivore should.

If this was in fact a betrayal of his body to biological needs, because of his age, it would not limit him any more than his height or weight had when he had been in elementary school and was still able to bite older fighters to death. He would not allow this to, just as he had not allowed any natural function in his form to hinder him.

Also, the Baby had a point, even if it was a bit lurid.

Finding a potential mate was a necessity of all living beings. Hibari was loath to think of it for himself, but as he gazed around his environment, there were almost no choices. He had yet to find a woman who appealed to him as a true carnivore, and besides, he didn't want to risk procreation at that age. A male was a decent alternative. And as far as male carnivores went…

Hibari felt a rush of heat go through him as he thought about how clear it was. Yamamoto had been the only carnivore he had met that made him feel that heat. It was as unpleasant as it was enjoyable, to pit his strength against him. He had spent a whole week avoiding admitting that being close to that other strength had been revitalizing in a way beating pathetic herbivores or even being around the Baby could not replicate.

The notion that he could be around it constantly and without bars…

It made sense. It was natural. It was logical.

Out of all the choices before him in Namimori, there was one clear line of action to open to him:

Yamamoto would be the perfect mate.

**0000**

**Day 12**

In almost a prophetic sense, the issue came to head once more in a flurry of activity at the school. It almost always came back to Namimori Middle, to the point even Yamamoto began to question just what was so special about the place.

Practice had just ended. Even though they didn't have any games coming up, Yamamoto was always one of the last to leave the field. He liked to stay out there to feel the lingering reverberations of the struggles of both practice and a good game. It gave him an odd sense of peace.

By lingering, it often meant he was the last one to hit the locker room and showers. He was fine by that too, even if that left him with the chore of closing up. Their coach required all of the team to be responsible and Yamamoto was just that.

That was why he was somewhat surprised to hear the only entrance to the locker room open with a faint creak. Yamamoto paused in front of the mirror, in a mid-toss of his wet hair. The mirrors were fogged, so he turned around physically to find out who had come in.

"Who is—_ouch_!"

Instinct kicked in too late. The unexpected visitor knocked him right over and his back smacked into the hard concrete floor, surprising him more than hurting him. The air in Yamamoto's lungs was choked out, and before he could try to replenish it, something dropped down on top of him. A heavy something. A person.

Yamamoto's mouth opened, but no words came out, when he realized who was sitting on top of him and pinning his wrists to his sides.

Getting pinned down on the floor of the locker room by Hibari Kyoya while wearing only a towel had not been on the top of his agenda after practice, but Yamamoto was learning to adapt.

"Hibari," he wheezed, not bothering to move as he looked up at the scowling Prefect. "What's up?"

He hadn't seen the Prefect around that day. Ever since their talk yesterday on the way home, Yamamoto had been hoping whatever problem Hibari was having could be solved after Hibari sorted things out by himself.

Apparently, he hadn't sorted it out. Hibari was still in his school uniform (as always) and looked completely unperturbed by what he was doing. Instead, he was staring at Yamamoto's face with fierce intensity.

"You have more than enough power to push me off," Hibari said. The way he said it, it probably would have been a question if anyone else had spoken. From him, it was mostly a statement of fact. His eyes certainly looked analyzing. "And yet you don't."

What was that supposed to mean? It almost seemed like he was implying something. Yamamoto felt a little flustered.

"Well, I guess that's because I'm not sure why you're pinning me," he said, trying to laugh it off, despite the building sense of apprehension rising up inside him.

Hibari glared down at him, his scowl screaming _danger_. "Shut up."

He moved forward, but not with a tonfa or fist. He moved his head forward and down, toward Yamamoto's own. Yamamoto just lay there, too stunned for words. Hibari hovered there, staring at the baseball player with a focused expression Yamamoto wasn't used to seeing on anyone, let alone the Prefect. There was heat flickering beyond the usual indifferent blue-gray eyes.

Without prompting, Hibari's hands released Yamamoto's wrists from that loose vice and trailed upwards slowly. The breath in Yamamoto's throat hitched. Hibari's expression did not waver, even as his hands finally came to rest at the base of Yamamoto's throat. Those pale hands curled around his bare neck, and if it had been anyone else doing it, it would have been a cradling effect.

"Hibari," Yamamoto said, eyes wider than ever as he dared to consider what Hibari was doing. "What are you—?"

He was lost in Hibari's eyes. They were still as sharp as ever and never once lost the predatory gaze that made Hibari infamous to those who came under his attention.

But there was a wild look there now that was new and somehow alarming to Yamamoto's senses. It wasn't a dangerous sort of wild. It was a helpless sort of wildness that betrayed the confusion the older student was clearly experiencing. Yamamoto didn't know why—well, he had a feeling he knew, but not definitely—Hibari was confused or why it was driving him to that extreme…but it made Yamamoto want to reach back and ask him what was wrong and how he could help.

Hibari did not give him the chance to do anything, however, because without prompt, he closed the distance between their faces. Yamamoto tensed up when he felt Hibari's lips close over his. It was awkward, especially with their teeth shoved up against each other's and their noses smashed together painfully. Hibari made a hissing sound and threw his head back up, his teeth grazing Yamamoto's bottom lip. Hibari still straddled him, but the calm in his breathing pattern was beginning to fade.

Yamamoto personally was still reeling from that kiss (if that even counted as a kiss.) "Whoa."

"Why does it feel this way?" Hibari demanded, shattering Yamamoto's daze. He spoke harshly and there was a faint tinge of anxiety that just didn't seem right in Hibari.

"Huh?" Yamamoto asked, startled. "Why does what…huh?"

He took in the anxiety. And the face-smashing. And the last two weeks of drawn out internal struggle written clearly on Hibari's behavior.

Despite what many said behind his back or to his face, Yamamoto was smart enough to figure this one out.

"Hibari," he said, daring to reach out and grab the older boy's arms by his elbows. "Calm down. It's okay."

Hibari pulled against him but didn't yank away. "What?" His eyes were more dangerous than ever.

Yamamoto decided to take the risk.

"That's not how you kiss," he said. He gently, carefully, pulled Hibari forward again to lean over him. He was surprised Hibari allowed it. "Do you want me to show you how? Is that why you're here?"

It felt a little awkward because he hadn't actually kissed anyone in a long time. It also felt awkward and a bit dangerous because of just who he was dealing with. Coaxing a wild animal to do anything was risky, but a kiss? From Hibari Kyoya? Even Yamamoto had to hold back a laugh at his suicidal choice.

Then again, he felt a strange sense that this was exactly what he had to do.

Slowly, with no intention to startle or irritate Hibari, who already looked ready to fight-or-flee, Yamamoto continued to guide Hibari's stiff but unresisting upper body back toward him. Hibari hovered there, horizontal, and still completely tense. He was watching Yamamoto with such fierce eyes as if expecting it to be a trick.

Then, slowly, slowly, Yamamoto closed the distance between them himself. He guided Hibari's face down as far as the older student would let him and he felt their lips touch softly as his eyes shut. Hibari tensed up and radiated unease, but he didn't move back. Yamamoto took that as acquiescence to press onward. He eased into the kiss as gently as he could, because he was beginning to suspect Hibari did not know what _gentle_ was concerning dealing with people. There was no better time to learn, however.

Yamamoto didn't make it too complicated. He felt the warmth from Hibari's lips seep in through his own and, even though it was almost entirely one-sided, he liked the feel of it. He had kissed a few people in his life. Kissing Hibari Kyoya was strangely dreamlike, although he was certain he had never dreamt of it before.

First time for everyone, he thought wryly, as he slowly pulled back. He dared to drag his teeth across Hibari's bottom lip lightly, making the older boy jerk back in surprise. When Yamamoto stared up at him with lidded eyes, he was glad to see that Hibari was watching carefully.

"Wasn't that better?" Yamamoto asked, smiling kindly.

Hibari stared at him. His eyes had lost that murderous edge from earlier and was replaced by a dazed expression that didn't quite match Hibari's normal look. There was no indifference; it was the opposite, with Hibari clearly still trying to figure out what he actually felt. There was still a glint of _I'm lost_ there that pushed Yamamoto to raise his hand toward Hibari, feeling the urge to comfort him.

And then, Hibari hit him straight in the face.

Head knocked to the side, Yamamoto instinctively brought his hand back to feel his sore cheek. Hibari had whipped out his tonfa out of no where. Talk about skill.

Hibari rolled off of his stomach in a blur. Yamamoto didn't try to stop him. He rubbed his jaw half-heartedly as he heard the door slam shut. The sudden cloud of anxiety had returned like a wave and it lingered in the air.

It made him want to laugh, albeit in a hysterical sort of manner.

"Huh," Yamamoto said, staring at the ceiling.

That had been weird.

.

* * *

**End Part 2.**

**In the final part of this first story in **_**Caging the Beast**_**, canon events happen and continue to make a mess of Hibari's once very normal, predator lifestyle. Yamamoto just keeps on smiling.**

* * *

.

**A/Ns**:  
-I failed to research what Japanese middle school locker rooms are like.  
-In my headcanon, Hibari is a very straight-forward guy, so in an effort to solve the confusing mess of his unwanted crisis here, I'm sure he'd revere to the same animal kingdom logic that rules the rest of his existence as well.  
-But come on, the dude is broken as hell as a fighter. Let's make Hibari a screw-up in one facet of life, okay?  
-As my non-shipper straight male friend commented of Yamamoto recently: "Come _on_. He's got to be a least a _little_ gay."


End file.
